


no nightfall

by floraphone



Category: Venom (Comics)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dubcon Cuddling, Eddie Brock/Flash Thompson - Pre-Slash, Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote - Established Relationship, Forced Intimacy, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Multi, Sharing a Bed, Unwanted Feelings of Affection, unwanted feelings of affection that may or may not come from the alien that lives in your brain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 16:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floraphone/pseuds/floraphone
Summary: The symbiote makes the fact that Flash is too cold to sleepEddie'sproblem, which is absolutely unfair.





	no nightfall

**Author's Note:**

> This is maybe the most self indulgent fic I've ever written. I'm always reluctant to write for comics or comics-related fandoms because I get self-conscious about my lack of canon knowledge, but this was such tropey funtimes I figured what the hell. Enjoy!

Night falls, but no one’s sleeping.

Eddie is curled up on the dirty hardwood floor of the hotel room to which he and Flash have been confined, huddled under the warmth that his other radiates while coiled around his skin. Since it’s just Flash in the room, his symbiote doesn’t bother imitating a jacket or blanket or taking some more socially acceptable shape - instead, it pools around him up to his nose in whatever stable iteration of roping tendrils and semi-fluid matter best insulates Eddie’s body. It’s nice - although Eddie can feel cold air on his cheeks and forehead, he feels warm at his core, where it matters. 

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Flash isn’t so lucky.

Both parties had previously come to an agreement that Flash would take the bed. Eddie is used to sleeping on dirty floors and in other uncomfortable places; moreover, he has the symbiote to warm him, and therefore doesn’t need the thin blankets they’d found folded at the foot of the bed as desperately as Flash needs them. But - regardless of Eddie’s good intentions - it doesn’t seem those blankets are doing Flash any good now, in the dead cold of night. 

Normally, this wouldn’t matter - not to Eddie at least. He doesn’t care about Flash nearly enough to worry about whether or not he’s cold or sleeping through the night. Tonight, though, the degree to which Eddie is keenly aware of Flash’s inability to sleep is _absurd_. 

Eddie can hear the quiet shudder in Flash’s every exhale, the sound of his teeth clicking together when a particularly violent shudder overtakes him. The shivers wracking his body are visible to Eddie even from this distance, and Eddie’s all-too-aware of the subtle shifting of Flash’s silhouette as he curls up tighter into himself in a futile attempt to preserve body heat. 

A pang of strange emotion jolts through Eddie’s heart. 

“You stop that,” Eddie mutters. “There’s nothing we can do, so just let it rest.” 

_Just let_ us _rest,_ Eddie thinks. The open fondness his other maintains for Flash is messing with Eddie’s brain. It’s hard not to resent Flash - for stealing his symbiote, for stealing his dignity, and now for stealing his hard earned handful of hours of sleep. 

_Sorry,_ his other says, and Eddie feels how sorry it is - not for its feelings towards Flash, but for keeping Eddie up with the concern bleeding through those shared parts of their consciousness. _Do you want to be put to sleep?_

_Yes,_ Eddie wants to say. He’s tired, and a small, vindictive part of himself feels smug satisfaction in the knowledge that Eddie could be warm and asleep, wrapped in his other’s embrace while Flash lies cold and alone. It’s a petty fantasy, almost cruel - Eddie acknowledges this, even as the thought of it makes something dark in him purr. 

From the bed, Flash lets out a particularly harsh, shuddering exhale, followed shortly by a stifled groan. The symbiote flexes around Eddie’s body, coiling uneasily. 

Ugh. 

“Alright, alright,” Eddie says, shifting his weight onto his elbow. “I’m movin’.” 

Settling himself on the bed is one of the most uncomfortable experiences in Eddie’s recent memory. The bedsprings creak loudly as he sits down on the edge, telegraphing every agonizing movement as Eddie crawls over to Flash’s side. Immediately the symbiote moves to reach out to Flash, thinning itself out around Eddie’s body and allowing in more cold than Eddie would like. 

Worse, Flash watches the whole time - head lifted slightly to look over his shoulder from where his back is turned to Eddie. 

“What are y-you - what’re you doing?” Flash says. There’s a clumsiness to his words, like he can’t quite move his lips and tongue as deftly as he’d like. 

Eddie can’t read his expression - half-lidded eyes and a scrunch to his nose. Disgust? Frustration? Concentration? Eddie’s not a people person. Eddie doesn’t know. Instead of answering, Eddie just drops his whole weight onto his side, the bed heaving an enormous groan underneath him, before scooting over so their backs are flush against one another. 

Then - the symbiote curls tightly around them both, sealing them together. 

Flash makes a confused noise. Eddie tries to ignore him as best he can. He immediately regrets his decision to indulge his other in this particular way, the aching cold that’s taken up residence in Flash’s bones seeping out through Flash’s thin shirt and filling the cozy space Eddie had cultivated within the symbiote’s mass. Moreover, he’s all too aware of the sudden tautness of the muscles lining Flash’s back; the knowledge that Flash is just as uncomfortable as Eddie is with the situation at hand is of little comfort to him when he’s being smashed up against a virtual stranger that the alien he loves happens to hold an inordinate - and frankly inappropriate - amount of affection for. 

Nevertheless, the symbiote is oblivious. Well, no - it plays at obliviousness, too joyous at getting to hold Flash close in its tentacles to acknowledge the discomfort of the humans it holds captive within the stretchy bulk of its body. 

Quietly, Eddie pretends its contentment isn’t enough to make all his tremendous discomfort worth it. 

Emboldened by his acquiescence, the symbiote prods at Eddie’s brain, urging him to get closer. Eddie turns over reluctantly but inevitably, the symbiote stretching to accommodate the motion. He wraps an arm carefully under Flash’s arm, around his ribs; Flash’s skin flinches at the intimate contact, his muscles tense - and then Flash presses back into Eddie's chest, shivering. 

“Jesus, you’re _freezing_ ,” Eddie says, startled as Flash jams a cold hand into the space between Eddie’s arm and Flash’s armpit. He’d felt how cold Flash’s body was against his back, but Eddie’s front is more sensitive to the chill. It makes him want to curl up, flinch away, but he can’t now - not with the symbiote pressing up against his back, pressing them together. 

“I don’t know w-what’s going on but - ” Flash lets out a heaving breath that might be an attempt at a laugh. “Hell if I ain’t taking advantage.” 

Flash is shaking violently again, and being unable to escape Eddie instinctively curls inwards, trying to preserve heat. As his arms tighten around Flash’s torso, grip almost crushing, he realizes suddenly that he hasn’t touched another human like this in a long, long time - not since - 

Jesus, not since _Anne_. 

That can't be right, Eddie thinks as the symbiote covers the both of them completely. Bowing his head under the gentle pressure of the symbiote’s embrace, Eddie finds his nose buried in Flash’s hair. Thighs pressed against Flash’s thighs, arms around his chest, lips pressed against his scalp - all of a sudden it’s too much for Eddie. 

“You can put me to sleep now, love,” Eddie mutters into Flash’s temple. Flash shifts a little in Eddie’s grip, and Eddie can feel it - every nervous twitch of Flash’s muscles, every shudder of Flash’s skin. Even though Flash knows he’s not the one Eddie’s talking to, every infinitesimal movement of acknowledgement generates a friction and intimacy that Eddie’s not ready for, will never be ready for. _Please, darling, I want to be really fucking unconscious,_ Eddie thinks as hard as can in the symbiote’s direction, hoping it’ll hear. 

Instead of immediately transporting him far from the many mistakes he’s made in his life - up to and including this most recent one, which Eddie regrets very much - the symbiote meters drowsiness out to Eddie incrementally. It starts with the slow relaxing of his muscles, the burning knot of anxiety in Eddie’s chest loosening and loosening like someone unscrewing him all apart, until eventually he feels like honey - half-fluid and pooling sweetly into the cavities of his other’s body, all too comfortable to move. 

In his arms, Flash has stopped shivering quite so much, warmth filling the enclosed space once more; it should be stifling, pressed together as tightly as they all three are, but the symbiote filters enough oxygen for the both of Eddie and Flash to breathe easy. Even better, the brush of skin on skin contact has stopped feeling foreign and unnatural and instead has started feeling just _nice_. Instead of reminding him of everything he’s lost it’s simple, comfortable. 

Flash is saying something. Eddie lets those pleasant vibrations wash over him, eyes drifting half closed and something resembling a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth - a reflex totally out of his control, Eddie finds. 

_Are you drugging me?_ Eddie thinks, too relaxed to speak. He knows the symbiote can put him to sleep quickly and efficiently, but right now he feels too good to complain about this slow drift into blissful nothingness. He wants for feel indignant but physically _can’t_ \- and right now that’s okay, better than the alternative. Better than having to deal with all this closeness sober and in his right mind. 

Apparently no longer craving heat as desperately as he had been before, Flash has stopped shoving himself back as deeply as he can into all of the cracks and crevices Eddie’s made with his body. Instead he’s twitching away, like he’d like to put some space between himself and Eddie but isn’t sure how with the symbiote coiled around them as tightly as it is. 

_No,_ Eddie or someone thinks, tugging Flash closer to Eddie’s body and inhaling deeply from his scalp. The smell of Flash’s hair sends a thrum of nostalgia through Eddie even though he’s never smelled Flash’s hair before in his life. He lets his heavy eyelids fall all the way shut and inhales again, revelling in the feeling of reminiscence and at the same time - contradictorily - committing that happy new smell to memory. 

“Uhh, Brock?” 

“Shhhhh,” Venom says, nuzzling into Flash’s soft and _wonderful_ smelling hair. 

They lay like that for an indeterminate amount of time, basking in the feeling of being all together and whole. When sleepiness finally starts to pull them apart it doesn’t feel like falling asleep - it feels like a white sun cresting over the horizon of their consciousness, nightfall scattering in the face of joy. 

They _missed_ this. They missed _Flash._

“I missed you, too,” Eddie hears Flash mutter, the sound of Flash's voice a gentle caress as he falls wholly into dreams that are comfortable and bright. 

* * *

It’s dark when Eddie wakes up. It can’t still be night, though - he feels too relaxed and well-rested, like he’s been sleeping for a while. He’s so cozy that he considers continuing to doze regardless, but the nagging question of where the sun went motivates him to stretch his legs a little and unwrap his arms from around the comfortable warmth of Flash’s body curled up against his chest. 

_Noooo,_ his other says, whining. _Go back to sleep!_

The fact that it doesn’t make him go back to sleep only serves to assure Eddie that it’s well past dawn and that they really should get moving. Instead of getting up, though, he continues to lie in bed, pleasantly limp and warm as he listens to the sound of Flash’s slow breathing and feels the gentle vibration of Flash's quiet snoring tickle his jaw. Sometime in his sleep Flash has turned over so he’s facing Eddie’s chest, head tucked just under Eddie’s chin and arms in turn wrapped loosely around Eddie’s hips. 

Eddie hugs Flash tighter to his chest briefly before remembering that actually, no - he doesn’t like Flash all that much. 

Eddie grits his teeth against his remembrance of how the symbiote had made him feel last night - the bleedover of joy, affection, _love_. Abruptly Flash’s presence is intolerable again, his lax body and gentle snoring a gross irritation. Eddie wants to shove Flash away, shake him awake, explain that last night wasn’t him - it was pity, it was the symbiote, it was the chemicals the symbiote put in his brain. 

And then like double vision Eddie sees Flash as he saw him last night, and his heart feels buoyed by sudden affection. 

“What are you doing to me?” Eddie hisses under his breath, hoping Flash won’t wake up and hear and mistakenly assume that Eddie’s talking to him. Because _boy_ , does he not want to have to try to explain his feelings to _Flash Thompson_ of all people right now. 

The symbiote, until now maintaining a patient silence in the wake of Eddie’s outrage, chimes in. _Not doing anything,_ it says innocently. Then, preemptively - _Did nothing you didn’t ask for._

Eddie shakes his head but doesn’t move from where he’s lying, doesn’t pull back from the feeling of Flash’s warm breath against his naked clavicle. The comfortable feeling associated with holding another person - holding Flash - remains leftover from the night before, those strange, bad associations that had assaulted him staying at bay. 

He shouldn’t feel so comfortable here, so... _okay_ with the confirmation of his worst fears about the relationship between his other and its former host. The dying remains of his jealousy flare up like embers in a breeze, but having actually experienced it - the way his other feels about Flash - it’s hard to remain resentful, impossible to be angry. Flash makes his other happy, and Eddie wants his other to be happy more than anything. 

_You_ love _him_ , Eddie accuses weakly. 

_Not me - we,_ the symbiote corrects him. _Us._

In that moment Flash stirs, inhaling sharply, deeply, his fingers twitching against Eddie’s spine. 

“Morning, Thompson,” Eddie says, gruff. If he keeps his chin on Flash’s head then he won’t have to look Flash in the eyes, won’t have to confront the reality of last night. 

Flash wiggles, shifting his weight and tilting his head up like he’s trying to look around. Eddie can feel the moment he remembers where he is, what’s going on. His whole body tenses, muscles flexing briefly in expectation of conflict before relaxing again - but not too much. Instead of pulling away completely, he turns just his face down and away from Eddie’s bare chest as much as he can - which isn’t much, but it’s something. 

“Mornin’ Eddie,” Flash mumbles. 

The little bitterness he feels, that spark of anxiety that he might not be enough for his other... Eddie focuses on other things. It’s not awful, Eddie reasons with himself. Flash isn’t the shittiest person Eddie’s ever met, and he’s warm. He smells nice. _It’s nice,_ his other says, practically purring. _It's all nice._ So maybe Eddie can imagine loving Flash, too. 

“We oughta head out,” Eddie says, eyes fixed on the inky dark - resolutely avoiding Flash’s face. “Get going, you know.” 

And around them the symbiote finally recedes, revealing warm sunbeams and light.


End file.
